Stranded in Skyrim
by NeonZangetsu
Summary: I don't rightly know how, but I've gotten myself stranded in Skyrim! As if that weren't bad enough, I'm already dead. Trouble is, I just keep respawning! Cursed with the inability to die, I struggle to survive in a realm of sorcery and dragons, all while trying to fend off a permanent and deadly Game Over. Self-insert fic. Contains lit-rpg elements. Multi-pairing? Please be nice!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Aaaaaaaaaand here we are, my friends!I sincerely hope you all like this, because I've been working slavishly on over the last few days. You see, I'm feeling inspired again, so this'll quite possibly be my last new story for awhile now that I've got an update system in place, not to mention a hardy crew to help me enforce my schedule. Thank god for friends and family, eh?**

 **Anywho, back to the author's note and the reason for this story!**

 **I've found a lot of self-insert fics floating around on this site as of late, and my interest was piqued. There's been so many different variations of it that I wanted to try my hand at something new, as it were. Now, bear in my that self-insert fics are not my forte, as I'm used to writing in the third person, rather than the first. But a lot of people have been prodding me to give this a shot, so here we are. I humbly await your opinions!** **Please be nice!**

 **First off, a disclaimer.**

 **The character-not an OC!-will be working his way up from next to nothing. He's literally been dropped in Skyrim with nothing but the clothes on his back alongside a few meager possessions. Powers, you ask? Well, not much to speak of here in the beginning, save for one tiiiiiiiny exception...**

 **...you'll see.**

 **Don't expect omnipotence by any means!**

 **As of the beginning, this "talent" and his near-encyclopedic knowledge of Skyrim are the only aspects in his favor. He's not the Dragonborn by any means-though he might well meet them-and he's rather ordinary beyond that, all things considered. As per the votes, there's no real language barrier here either, unlike in Arrow to the Knee. Additionally,** **spent the LONGEST time debating where to even start here, because this Skyrim after all. Throw in the Special Edition as well as mods and you catch my drift! Shor's Bones, that's a lot of content to work with! Tasteful ones only of course.**

 **On another note, characters from Mods may be included here. For example, Inigo and Caesia. Sophia? Um...dunno about her just yet.**

 **Still, I hope you all find this a refreshing take on this!**

 **As well as a slight Fourth Wall break.**

 **Try and find it!**

 **I DARE ye.**

 **On another note, An Arrow to the Knee will be updated before Halloween.**

 **Sorry if this chapter is short, but its the beginning of great things, I assure you!**

 **The premise may seem rough to some, yet I sincerely hope you enjoy what is to come!**

 **Hope ya like it!**

 _"Well...this is unfortunate."_

 _~?_

 **Stranded**

 _I think I'm going to freeze to death, this time._

As far as ends go its not exactly a _bad_ one per se; I dare say its better than most. Trudging through the snow until you finally collapse sounds _infinitely_ better than the terror of awaiting the headsman's ax, excruciating agony of burning alive in dragon fire, the or the timeless anxiety of watching yourself bleed out, knowing there's nothing you can do. Believe me, I know. I've already suffered those three since I first stumbled my way here. If had to choose a way to die now, it'd be in my sleep. Just drifting away, unaware of anything. Nice and simple. Peaceful, even. I'd never even know.

There's just one tiiiiiiiny little problem with that scenario.

I keep coming back.

Now I know what you're thinking; isn't that an incredible power to have?! You literally can't be killed! You'll just respawn! Literally!

 _No, it is not!_

In the last day-was it a day?-I've died three times.

Each time I wake up in the exact same place.

Inevitably, I end up dying. Again.

Rinse and repeat.

What the hell is this, _Re: Zero_ or something?!

The first was an ax in Helgen. That's right, no Alduin swooping in to save me. The second came in the form of that bastard's fire breath. Also in Helgen. The third fell upon me with an Imperial sword to the gut in, yes, you guessed it, Helgen! See a pattern here?! Sorry, sorry, I don't mean to be sarcastic. Please forgive me, the awe's worn off and I'm a bit numb to it all by now.

Suspend your disbelief for a moment and let me tell you my tale; such as it is.

Basically?

I'm stuck in Skyrim.

I, a completely ordinary individual, am stranded.

You'd think the title would be enough of a giveaway, no?

Alright, I'm getting ahead of myself again. Gotta start at the beginning.

How did this happen to me, you ask?

In all honesty, I'm not entirely sure anymore. My last coherent memory is fuzzy with copious amounts of liquor, collapsing onto my couch with a bottle in one hand and a girl in the other. Now wait just a second! Don't go labeling me a whoremonger or a drunkard just yet! Ordinarily, I'm not much of a drinker, but that day was a special occasion. My birthday. What? Aren't I allowed a bit of fun and a beer or two? I don't remember much of that night besides. Went out, had a couple of beers with the boys, celebrated, staggered home with someone on my arm, and...

...the rest is a big blank spot, really.

As for what little I _can_ remember, well...

Lets try to sum it up in three words, shall we?

Beer.

Babes.

Bullshit.

Which brings us back to my current plight of stumbling through the snow and trying _not_ to expire in this frozen wasteland _._ That's right. Of all the god-forsaken places to escape to this time, I find myself stranded in the middle of nowhere clad in nothing but my unmentionables, freezing my bits off. Worse, I can't recall how I go there. No words of power, no divine intervention. Rather anticlimactic, isn't it? I don't like dying mind you. I am very _attached_ to my body and I enjoy living! Frankly, it sucks something awful; the first time nearly drove me mad. The second, morseo. By the third, I was honestly wondering if this was all a dream.

But you don't bleed in dreams, and you most certainly don't feel pain.

The only reason I'm alive at all here is because I took a risk and bolted when that horse thief did. By some miracle it actually worked out for me. They still skewered the poor sod with arrows, but somehow, I managed to escape. Hopefully Alduin was on time for once or they're going to hunt me all over Skyrim. I've been running Northeast ever since. Somehow I managed to get my arms unbound between here and there. Now I'm not the most muscular man in the world, but I can book it when need be. Needless to say, I've been hoofing it all day because now its night and _sonofabitch!_

 _Thwack!_

Reality reasserted itself all at once as my foot caught on a particularly stubborn root and I went down in a tangle of arms and legs.

For a moment I honestly contemplated death; say what you will about most men and their fantasies of finding themselves in their favorite game, but face them with death and most will turn tail and run. I was certainly no exception. In that instant I wanted nothing more than to curl up into a ball and tuck my head between my knees. What? Don't give me that look! You'd do the same if you suddenly found yourself in a wasteland, much less that of a game! In the end, the knowledge of what awaited me should I "expire" a fourth time kept me going.

Scraping myself off the floor, I willed myself to stand, though that took an effort in-and-of-itself.

I made it all of three steps more before my feet gave out and I collapsed. Again.

 _'Up, damn you!'_ I willed at my unresponsive limbs. _'Get up!'_

I just needed to make it to civilization, I told myself.

Anywhere would do.

 _Anywhere._

Now that I'd decided not to die my body apparently decided now was the time to start protesting; because in that instant all the pain caught up with me, barreling over my body in a crushing wave. In my numbed state it took me a minute to understand why. Instead I realized I hadn't fallen into snow, but stone. When I finally summoned up enough strength raise my gaze, my eyes fell upon not snow mountaintops but instead dying trees, leaves even now tumbling from their branches. Had I really been running that long? Just how much stamina did I have? It didn't make any sense...

Even more confusing were the city gates in the distance.

Those hadn't been there before.

Wracking my brain produced no answers, only the faintest sense of vertigo.

"What in the blue hell...?"

I barely recognized the hoarse words that croaked out me; how long had it been since I'd had something to eat? To drink? My mind flailed for answers and found none. Only pain and weakness. I must've looked quite the sight to any passerby, clad in nothing but a pair of boxers and mud, my hands and feet scratched and bloody from my escape. Once more I took a stab at standing, but my legs would brook now more and I collapsed like a boneless chicken on the side of the road. Damnit, I needed clothes, I needed food, I needed...needed...!

 _"Shor's bones!"_ A woman's startled voice rang out, piercing the fog of my exhaustion, "Where did you come from?!"

As luck-or misfortune!-would have it, my prayers were answered.

A shadow blotted out the moonlight overhead and the next I knew someone or _something_ laid hands on me. Panic overrode reason and I lashed out. Weakened as I was however, I accomplished little more than mindless flailing. I'm not ashamed to say it. I couldn't do anything more than that as those same arms hoisted me up, carrying me as though I weighed no more than a newborn. Alright, maybe it was a little embarrassing. It took all my remaining strength just to life my head and find my rescuer's face. Even in the faint light, I recognized the war pain. The banded iron armor. A spark of recognition ignited deep within me.

'Well, shit.'

"Whoever you are, it's alright now." my rescuer soothed, her dulcet tones sending a quiet shiver through my body. "You're safe."

Realization dawned and I grasped at words, but nothing came. Too tired. Too exhausted.

 _Wait a minute._

I knew that face.

Just as I knew those gates.

With that my mind finally rebooted, only to shut down all over again.

Oh, dear.

Riften.

Of course.

No, no, I couldn't stumbled my way into Whiterun or Morthal or somewhere nice; it just had to be fucking Riften!

In that moment, as exhaustion claimed me, three words summed up the entirety of my existence.

 _Fuck my life._

 **A/N: And there we go. A little something to amuse the readers. I'm trying to keep it realistic in a sense, which is difficult when you consider this is freakin' SKYRIM!**

 **So, in the Immortal Words of Atlas...**

 **...Review Would You Kindly? Unless you want to deal with an angry Alduin. And of course, enjoy the preview! Yes, it may be a large one, but it is ohhhhhhh so SATISFYING.**

 **(Previews)**

 _"Can't we just talk this over?"_

 _The man drew his sword._

 _"Oh, fuck you and-_

 **R &R!=D**


	2. Level Up

**A/N: REVIEEEEEEEW FOR IT FEEDS MY ENGINE OF CREATION!**

 **I HAVE SEEN INFINITY WAR AND IT HAS BROKEN ME.**

 **I literally stood in shock.**

 **...so many deaths!**

 **Well! "Not Going Home" is going to have something to say about that!**

 **Hello! Aaaaaaaaaand here we are once again, my friends! I sincerely hope you all like this, because I've been working slavishly on over the last few days. You see, I'm feeling inspired again, so this'll quite possibly be my last new story for awhile now that I've got an update system in place, not to mention a hardy crew to help me enforce my schedule. Thank god for friends and family, eh?**

 **Anywho, back to the author's note and the reason for this story!**

 **I've found a lot of self-insert fics floating around on this site as of late, and my interest was piqued. There's been so many different variations of it that I wanted to try my hand at something new, as it were. Now, bear in my that self-insert fics are not my forte, as I'm used to writing in the third person, rather than the first. But a lot of people have been prodding me to give this a shot, so here we are. I humbly await your opinions!** **Please be nice!**

 **First off, a disclaimer.**

 **The character-not an OC!-will be working his way up from next to nothing. He's literally been dropped in Skyrim with nothing but the clothes on his back alongside a few meager possessions. Powers, you ask? Well, not much to speak of here in the beginning, save for one tiiiiiiiny exception...**

 **...you'll see.**

 **Just a quick little thing to tide you all over while I head to work...**

 **...especially considering I'm really sick atm.**

 _"Wait a minute...I can use menus?!"_

 _"What in Ysmir's name is a menu? Is it a weapon?"_

 _"Ooooooh I think I can work with this! What? Why are you looking at me like that?"_

 _~?_

 **Level Up**

 _Requirements Have Been Met: Would You Like to Level Up?_

As far as questions go, that's not a bad one to wake up to. Strange perhaps, but far from unpleasant. After being trapped in a perpetual hell of my own making for what felt like an eternity, it was almost a relief to open my eyes and see those silver letters imposed over the ceiling, rather than the cruel headsman's ax from Helgen. Unfortunately they also served as a painful reminder of my current plight. This wasn't a dream. This place-wherever I'd wound up-was painfully real. Skyrim; a world where I seemed cursed to die over and over again, perpetuating an endless loop. A world in which I seemingly held no power whatsoever beyond that of my unfortunate ability to die over and over again.

But this, this was _new._

My arms protested painfully as I forced myself into an upright position, propping myself up on both elbows. My legs took even less kindly to that. It felt as though I'd run a marathon-which I likely had during my mad dash to escape Helgen-and even the slightest twinge send sparks of pain skittering across my muscles like angry skeevers.

Scrubbing at my face with the back of a hand, my worse fears were confirmed.

Still the message hung there, hovering _just_ above my basic field of vision, awaiting a response. My hands twitched before I could think to stop them, almost reaching for a controller that I knew wasn't there.

Interesting.

"Um...what?" I managed eloquently.

As if irked by my recalcitrance, a second message flickered in the right corner of my sight.

 _Access the Menu to Level Up._

Instinctively I flicked my eyes upward.

A mistake, that.

What I saw there boggled my mind.

A starry sky erupted before my vision, swelling with a thousand lights and endless constellations. Well. At least that seemed familiar...in a sense. Just what kind of game-breaking bullshit was this? While my health sat at an absurdly low level of merely one hundred, I had stamina for days. The confusion didn't end there. Was I the Dragonborn? I better not be the Dragonborn. Skyrim was so _screwed_ if I was the bloody Dovahkin!

Gliding my senses across what I could only describe as the "sky" I began to realize how inordinately fucked I was.

"Ah, shit on a stick."

Not only was my speech skill inordinately high-topping out in the high eighties but _apparently_ I specialized in pickpocketing. Of course. Because that's a _useful_ skill. What in blazes?! Now to be fair, I'd made many a Skyrim character in my day-as most have I suspect-but I didn't recall creating a speech and stamina-based build. I didn't even recall _making_ another character at all! Wait, wait, wait. I'm missing something important here. What the hell was this, Sword Art Online or something? No, no, best not to think about that. If I could use menus...

With that the dawn broke and I nearly bolted out of bed.

 _"Wait a minute...I can use menus?!"_

As though waiting for that precise outburst, the door to my "room"-which I could only assume was in an inn of some sort-in response to my ungodly shrieking. A vaguely familiar face appeared, wreathed in tatoos. Even in my somewhat inebriated state, I recognized my rescuer on the spot.

Ah.

Mjoll.

So I'm in Riften.

"What in Ysmir's name are you going on about, friend?" she asked me. "What's a menu? Is it a weapon?"

"Oooooooooooh I think I can work with this! What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

I would like to state for the record that I am not to blame for what came next...

 _...but that would be lying._

 **A/N: And there we go. A little something to amuse the readers. I'm trying to keep it realistic in a sense, which is difficult when you consider this is freakin' SKYRIM!**

 **So, in the Immortal Words of Atlas...**

 **...Review Would You Kindly? Unless you want to deal with an angry Alduin. And of course, enjoy the preview! Yes, it may be a large one, but it is ohhhhhhh so SATISFYING.**

 **(Previews)**

 _"Eh, pretty much doing it for the waifu."_

 _...what is a waifu?"_

 _"Ah, Aerin! You have much to learn!_

* * *

 _"DRAGON!"_

 _"How the hell can I fight one of those?!"_

* * *

 _"Can't we just talk this over?"_

 _The man drew his sword._

 _"Oh, fuck you and-_

* * *

 _Tell me, have you ever hated someone?_

 _Have you ever loathed a human being so much that the very sight of them would make you tremble? Not with fear, but rage. That's how I feel towards those who abuse children._

 _In that instant I honestly didn't comprehend my actions, or the consequences._

 _I regret nothing!_

 **R &R!=D**


End file.
